Bertie and the Kinky Politician by Mike A Vickers

leader more pervasive. He manipulated on an astonishing scale, had become so entwined in policy decisions and involved in concealing so many unsavoury episodes that he could exert political pressure in a way MI5 could only dream of, and as a result there were times when, effectively, he controlled the Government – and Hugo enjoyed wielding this power very much. Consequently, when he received rumour of storm clouds gathering to darken his unique position, he exerted all his considerable intellect to deflect the threat.
    Ruthlessly.
    As Quentin Austerly and Wallace Sharples had just discovered.
    Having already rumbled a number of their lesser scams, Hugo rightly guessed they were disposed to more significant levels of corruption. A little routine sifting had produced all the evidence he needed. He knew it would be there if he dug deep enough. Austerly, in particular, seemed to be profiting almost uncannily each time a generous defence contract was awarded by Sharples’ department. The route the dirty money took was certainly devious, involved several offshore accounts, a Central American bank of dubious honesty and more laundering than a pair of favourite Y-fronts, but Chaplain was skilled and tenacious and the link was forged.
    All because of a chance remark by Austerly, overheard in passing, that plans were in the process of being prepared to convert the part of the building containing JSON’s very modest offices into an entertainment and fitness suite for the exclusive use of senior ministers. The prospect of losing his comfortable lodgings to make way for Austerly’s own private cinema and hot tub proved too much for Hugo. To be bundled out of his secluded corner and dumped who-knows-where would inevitably raise JSON’s profile. The danger was immediately apparent. Awkward questions would inevitably result. Who were these people and what was their function? The protective veil of secrecy surrounding JSON would be breached, a consequence to be avoided at all costs. In Chaplain’s experience, it would then only be a question of time before the media picked up on the story, and that would be the end of JSON. Fortunately, Chaplain was a consummate master of manipulation and knew that although his chief dangers lay in the direction of the press, he could also use them to his advantage.
    Mysteriously, within the week, reports of serious financial irregularities within the MoD began to surface in the papers. Reliable but unidentified ‘sources’ leaked like a rusty bucket used for shotgun practice, pointing the press in the right direction. Their tenacity was admirable, once they had been teased with a few tasty morsels. Chaplain smiled. It had all been so easy and now the pair had fallen from grace, never to return. Austerly knew he’d been shafted by JSON but could not prove a thing, and that made Hugo’s victory even sweeter.
    And all because Hugo really rather liked his shabby office.
    His pleasant reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. He adjusted his tie to carefully conceal a tea stain garnered earlier at No. 10. ‘Come!’
    â€˜You look pleased.’ A wiry but powerful man in his early forties slipped his head around the door. Chaplain waved him in and the two sat at their ease on either side of the plain deal desk. The newcomer was strongly built, easily filling his shirt with an excess of well-developed musculature no normal person could possibly possess. His face resembled that of a clothing catalogue model, handsome in a nondescript way, with a long nose, blue eyes, and short dark hair. He lit a cigarette with an old-fashioned Zippo, then slid packet and lighter across the table. Chaplain helped himself. For some strange reason the smoke detector above the desk was always faulty. Chaplain didn’t give a damn about anti-smoking legislation, political correctness or the injured sensibilities of his fellow non-smokers. ‘My boy, there are times